


Sick Of Losing

by oofandpeggy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Canon Compliant, Hurt Peter Parker, OK THERES NOT REALLY THAT MANY CHARACTERS THEYRE JUST MENTIONED BUT YEAH, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, im sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oofandpeggy/pseuds/oofandpeggy
Summary: “Peter, you have been injured. Calling Mr Stark”Peter froze. Mr Stark was dead.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 94





	Sick Of Losing

**Author's Note:**

> alternatively named ‘probably armed, possibly not’ bc it’s nearly mocks time and GCSE lit is hell  
> i’ve been dead for years and uh i have no ideas for that field trip fic?? 2018 me was something else honestly 
> 
> anyway enjoy some of this 
> 
> TW THO: suicidal thoughts a lil so be careful :)

Peter stared longingly at the suit in front of him. He hadn’t been Spider-Man in months. The suit felt like a reminder; a plague of memories and trauma smothering his skin and body, drowning him, his thoughts, just….. him. So yeah, he hadn’t been Spider-Man in months. Guilt sat in his gut as he looked away from the red and blue.

Mr Stark had made that suit for him.

Mr Stark had _died_ for him.

Mr Stark had put his life before his to make sure that he could live again. And he was wasting that chance that he had been given by sitting on his (new) bedroom floor and staring at his suit instead of being out there saving people like he should’ve been.

And to think the suit used to be an escape for him. He would don that frankly ridiculous red and blue suit and just feel _free_. Free from the stress of school, free from being…. just plain old _Peter Parker_. The exhilarating feeling of knowing that almost no one knew who he was or could judge him for it. Knowing that although Spider-Man had his enemies and haters, he was confident. A confidence that he didn’t feel when he was just Peter.

The suit used to represent freedom. But now to Peter the suit only represented captivity, imprisonment,,, _trauma._

He had died in that suit. He had felt his body being torn apart, piece by piece, atom by atom and then was forced to feel the same pain once again, but this time being put back together. He had watched his hands turn to ash, clinging onto Mr Stark, begging for his _life_ yet he was only met with darkness. And within what felt like so much as a blink of an eye for him, was actually five _years._ He woke up in a world where no one knew him; forgotten him.

That was his last memories of Mr Stark. Of holding on to him, pleading for his own life, the other clutching his chest, pleading for his life. And that’s what was Mr Stark’s last memories of him were. 

He knew what Mr Stark’s life was like when he was ‘dead’. He had lived the life that he finally deserved to live. And Peter…. Peter.. took that from him. Took that from Pepper, took that from,, from _Morgan._ His daughter. And although he felt an overwhelming feeling of envy at the notion of being replaced, he knew that he was never truly replaced. He knew that he wasn’t actually his son, but Mr Stark was the closest thing to a father figure that he had. Hell, he was his father figure. (Not that he would have ever admitted that to the man’s face.) And a small part of Peter silently hoped that he had seen him in the same way too. Not that they’d ever know that now.

Peter turned his focus to the Iron Spider suit that he kept in the corner. Blue, red and gold swirled in the container while Peter felt a feeling of grief weighing down his torso. Spider-Man with a hint of Iron Man, huh? Like the team that they used to be. The suit in which,, Mr Stark,, had given him the title of an Avenger.

An Avenger. That was currently neglecting his duty.

He turned his head back to his original suit hanging in the closet. He couldn’t wear the iron spider suit but, maybe he could wear that one? It was the first suit that Mr Stark had given him. Would he be able to bear the guilt and the grief and the pain that any of the suits gave him? Maybe he just had to. For, after all, that’s what heroes do. 

So, he had made up his mind. He snatched the suit from the closet and hesitated. Hesitation. He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

(…..Did Mr Stark hesitate?....)

No. He couldn’t. He put the suit on and jumped out of the window.

-is this a line break?-

It was bittersweet. He missed Karen dearly. Although she was a reminder of what he had lost, it was nice to hear her voice again.

Until it wasn’t. 

He was told that there was a break-in two blocks away from the building that he was perching on. So, he swung through the buildings to be greeted by seven (he thought?) armed men that seemed to be taken by surprise when he made an appearance. (Which, in all fairness, was justified as the streets of Queens hadn’t seen Spider-Man in over four years.)

Long story short, they fucking shot him.

He had lunged at the one with the valuables after webbing up of the rest of them. Or at least, that’s what he thought he did. While trying to take the possessions from said robber, another one (maybe he didn’t see him? Why didn’t he web him up?) shot him from behind. Why didn’t his spidey-sense (Peter-tingle) work? Was he really good enough to be Spider-Man? God, he was probably such a disappointment to Mr Stark.

“Peter, you have been injured. Calling Mr Stark.”

Peter froze as he let the guys get away. Calling Mr Stark? But Mr Stark was dead. No one was going to be there to save him this time.

He fell to the ground sobbing as he had a startling realisation.

He was _dead_ for _five years._ Of course Karen wasn’t updated. He had even died in the suit, both of them. And after all, Mr Stark had probably forgotten about Peter. He had a real daughter after all. He didn’t need to remember his dead mentee? Intern? ( _son?_ ) He definitely didn’t need to update the suit, seeing as he was fucking dead. Spider-Man was _dead_. And probably died on that fateful day that he became dust. He wasn’t cut out to be Spider-Man anymore, since, you know, he just got shot. Some kind of superhero he was.

Tears fell from his eyes like the blood oozing from the wound on his back. What if it hit his spine? What if he became paralysed? _What if no one came?_

His mind was starting to get hazy and the pain felt more distant, like it wasn’t his pain; like it was someone else’s. This surely had to be it. ( _This isn’t how it felt last time._ ) He wasn’t sure he wanted to die just yet. I mean, sure, he sometimes felt like death would’ve been better than the hell that he was currently living, but he wasn’t sure that he would want to go through with it. He truly had no point of living anymore if he was honest. He wasn’t a good Spider-Man anymore, Tony Stark was fucking dead and Aunt May would have a whole less stress if he just _wasn’t there at all._

And his heavy eyes fell shut.

**Author's Note:**

> hope that was somewhat painful enough for yall :)
> 
> the notes that my best friend left for me tho: ‘yay babe you did it! you killed him!’ which is just beautiful i have to say 
> 
> i might write a happy ending if yall REALLY want but i’m better at angst and idk why so
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated :)  
> my kinda ded tumblr is oofandpeggy if you wanna follow ;)))


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